Picnics and Pining
by TootMyOwnHorn
Summary: Nick & Diane stumble rather drunkenly home from the Screech-In. Discussions are had, plans are made and feelings are felt.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

The glass doors at the front of Gander Academy had welcomed all manner of people over the years: teachers, students and, in the past three days, around 700 displaced passengers from around the world.

The pair currently trying to wrestle their way in had been somewhat unsuccessful in their attempts to make a quiet entrance. The two had swaggered up the path, arms wrapped tight around each other's waists, with the smaller of the couple humming an Irish reel in a broken and off-key manner despite the frequent shh's coming from her partner.

"We'd better keep it down, we're nearly there," came his light English tenor in hushed undertones.

The two stumbled up the steps and managed to thud into the glass doors before descending into a fit of giggles.

Diane reached out for the door handle unsteadily and pushed. The door did not budge.

She pushed once more, rattling the handle, but the door refused to open. Her face screwed up in concentration and with a concerted effort, she pushed with both hands.

It was then that Nick noticed something. He grabbed her elbow.

"Wait, wait... it says "pull", " he mumbled, gesturing at the large typeface printed along the door.

They both stared at each other blankly for a moment before collapsing into another fit of mirth.

"Shh, shh!" he uttered in a stage whisper.

"_You_ shh, shh!" she returned, waving a finger in front of her lips in an exaggeration of his movements.

Together they pulled open the door and stumbled inside, continuing to descend into fits of (almost) silent laughter.

Still wrapped up in each other's arms, they plodded over to one of the couches in the foyer and collapsed together, Nick absently noting how close Diane had chosen to sit.

Well, to be honest it was more a case of her tumbling onto the couch practically on top of him and simply neglecting to move.

He couldn't say he minded.

Nick had been thrilled with this evening's turn of events. Initially he'd had misgivings about going out to the pub with everyone else – that just wasn't his sort of scene. But Diane was going, and so he was going.

He'd been trying not to appear too needy, too clingy, but over the past few days he'd found himself trailing along wherever she went, just for a chance to be around her.

Ever since her gentle jokes and her story about bananas and chicken pox had put him at ease on the bus, he'd found himself drawn to her warmth and kindness. _Her beauty, too_, part of him thought, though he had firmly quashed that line of thinking. After all, she was a married woman.

Or so he'd thought. That turned out not to be the case and a gentle flicker of something had taken root somewhere in the region of his chest.

Hope.

This was bolstered by the fact that everyone around them seemed to think they were a couple. Even the mayor had presumed they were married. The tiny thrill that went through Nick at that suggestion was nothing compared to the one that bowled him over a moment later when Claude had asked:

"So you're not married. Well, would ya like to be?"

And cutting neatly over his embarrassed stammers, Diane had simply said:

"Well, why not!"

The sensible voice inside Nick's head that was usually responsible for talking him into eating his vegetables and doing his taxes reminded him that both he and Diane had already had a bit to drink and that she was probably just going along with the joke.

But that flicker of hope in his chest had burned a little brighter after that, helped along by a further two beers and then a burning shot of screech.

He'd been painfully aware of how close Diane's chair was next to him, their shoulders pressed together and knees bumping from time to time (perhaps more often than strictly necessary if he was being honest with himself).

He'd somehow mustered up the courage to kiss the cod, spurred on by Diane's words of encouragement, but mostly by her hand on his knee.

Still sputtering and wiping the slimy taste away with the back of his hand, Nick couldn't believe the hypocrisy of some people. _I will if you will, yeah right!_

He had made his objections known, his mock outrage unable to keep the smile from spreading over his face every time he looked at her. He also took advantage of the opportunity for casual contact, nudging her and gently touching her shoulder as he egged her on to complete the ritual.

The flicker of hope was burning strongly, radiating out from his chest and he could feel his whole body humming in proximity to hers.

God, she looked adorable in that yellow hat.

Nick was so caught up in drinking in the sight of her that he missed the alternative Claude was offering her and it was only when the words "Englishman" and "kiss" floated down into his consciousness that he tore away his gaze, turning to Claude in a fluster.

"But, no, we're not even… I mean, I"

But he was silenced as two small hands wound around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss, gentle but confident and the flicker of hope swelled into a raging inferno.

To Nick's eternal regret, he was too shocked to move or respond in time before she slowly released him and jumped up to dance with the locals.

He sat there with a look of wonder on his face, gently raising a trembling finger to his lips.

A change in the music brought Nick back to himself and he stood up with a smile, going to the bar to buy them both another beer, hoping it would help him locate the courage to ask her to dance.

For the remainder of the night, they'd been all but inseparable, with Nick following her around the bar, resolutely ignoring a half-overheard aside from one of the Kevins (something about a lovesick puppy).

He couldn't help but notice a barrier that had come down between them since the kiss. They were more tactile with each other, finding little excuses to let a hand rest on a shoulder for a moment longer, or to lean in or squeeze past each other despite the bar not actually being _that_ crowded.

Towards the end of the evening, Nick finally managed to get up the nerve to ask Diane to dance. She laughed gently at his bumbling, stammering attempts before taking his hand and leading him over to the dance floor.

The pace of the music had started to wind down, much like the evening and he had briefly hesitated before drawing her a little closer and letting his hands settle about her hips. Her arms had slung around his neck and she had come to rest her head against his as they swayed in time.

Only the threat of last call had served to separate them and they had ordered one last round, which was hastily consumed and, now that they had settled back at the school, was starting to take effect.

Once again, Diane's head had found its way onto his shoulder, one arm slung across his torso and Nick was relishing the warmth and comfort that this brought. It had been a long time since he had been this close with anyone, physically speaking that is. If he was completely honest with himself, he didn't think he'd _ever _felt this close to someone…. Emotionally? Spiritually? Shared a completely head-over-heels mind-body-and-soul connection with someone? And especially someone he had only met two days ago.

Isn't it funny the changes a day can bring?

"You know what we should do tomorrow?" Diane mumbled into his chest.

"What's that?" he asked, wrapping his arm more snugly around her shoulders.

"We should have a picnic!"

He chuckled. She whacked his elbow half-heartedly, though from her current position the effect was one of a wet sponge landing in the sink.

"I'm serious," she protested. "We could get some sandwiches and fruit and things from the cafeteria and, and… whatever other things you'd like…"

"Toutons?" he asked hopefully. She giggled.

"Sure."

"That sounds wonderful." He hesitated, taking a thoughtful breath. "You know, Diane, I'm not normally the sort of person who goes out dancing in pubs. I, erm… I'm not the sort of person who goes out full stop, to pubs or otherwise. I've never been that comfortable around others. But something about being here has made me want to change that."

He tightened the fingers of his free hand around his knee cap, trying not to let his nerves show. He could feel her warm weight against his chest and he wondered if she could hear his heart racing.

"To be honest, it's been since I… since I met you. I've never met anyone like you Diane and I think that I… that I might be…"

He took a deep breath. _Well, in for a penny…_

"I think I'm falling for you. I think there's a very good chance that I'll fly out of here completely and utterly in…"

He stopped abruptly as a gentle snore cut across his impassioned words. Angling his head, he could see Diane dozing against his chest, wisps of hair falling softly across her face.

"… love with you," he finished softly, placing a gentle kiss against her forehead.

Nick wasn't sure how long they sat there, but as a cramp slowly seized up his neck he thought it might be time they got to bed properly.

"Diane," he murmured gently, rousing her awake.

"Hmmm, Nick," she mumbled sleepily, allowing him to pull her to her feet. They wrapped an arm around each other's waist and shuffled out into the gymnasium and quietly found their cots.

"I'll just get us some water," he said softly before padding over to the cafeteria.

Inside, he was surprised to find it still occupied despite the late hour.

One of the local women – Beulah, he thought her name was – was drying mugs with a tea towel.

Nick nodded towards her in greeting. "I've just come in for some water," he said.

"You and your lady friend look like you could use it!" she chuckled. "It's nice to see you looking out for her though. You two been together long?"

"Oh, no we're not…." Nick hesitated. He supposed, after tonight, perhaps they were. "Umm, we met on the plane, actually," he admitted.

Beulah stopped her drying with a gasp.

"Well, isn't that lovely! Thank the heavens something good has come out of all this! You two're lovely together," she smiled. Nick blushed profusely, but couldn't help a gently pleased grin from breaking.

An idea struck him.

"We were thinking… that is, if we're still here tomorrow, and provided we could get the right things organised, that… I …. We were thinking of having a picnic," he finished in a rush, feeling the tips of his ears turn a decidedly deeper shade of pink than they previously had been.

Beulah's eyes lit up.

"Oh that's delightful! Well, we can do ya some sandwiches and there's cake and a fresh order of fruit coming in in the morning. I've got a little basket at home somewhere I think and there's still plenty of spare blankets over in the library that I'm sure nobody'll mind ya taking."

"Are you sure that's alright? I don't want to impose."

"You leave it with me, duckie," she patted his arm and gave a gentle wink. "I'll see you right."

Once again humbled by the sheer generosity of the townspeople here, Nick bade her goodnight and returned to the gymnasium with two glasses of water. He weaved silently between the cots, tracing what was becoming a familiar path back towards their cots.

Where Diane was now fast asleep, burrowed deep in her pillow. He smiled fondly, setting the glass down next to her bed for the morning.

Brushing a strand of hair back from her face, he bent to gently kiss her forehead.

She hummed in soft contentment before nuzzling deeper down into her blankets.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispered, before turning back to his own cot and laying down to sleep.

His heart was full and the smile on his face lingered until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Nick awoke to a fuzzy taste and a mild headache, but miraculously little else in the way of a hangover, given how out of practice he was.

Doctor's orders and all that.

He blearily opened his eyes and any complaints he might have had regarding his wellbeing instantly vanished as he took in the sight before him.

As had become habit, he had rolled towards Diane's cot in the night and had awoken on his side, facing her with one arm flopped on the floor between them as if it had been reaching for her in the night.

What made his heart give a small somersault was the way she seemed to have done the same.

She was somehow simultaneously snuggled into the bed and yet sprawled over it. Her arm was draped over the edge of the cot, her legs kicked out from the sheets at odd angles, yet her face was pressed deeply into the pillow, snoring adorably.

Good lord, he was smitten.

Remembering their plans from the night before and eager to begin them, he clambered out of bed and made his way delicately through the cots to the bathrooms to brush his teeth – he didn't want to start off their date with hangover breath.

Was it a date?

He supposed so. Two people who were interested in each other – who had kissed each other for goodness' sake – eating together was rarely called anything else.

Assuming she was interested in him, that is.

_No, stop it Marson. Have faith. I mean, she kissed you, didn't she?_

Giving the reflection in the mirror a cautious smile, Nick somewhat succeeded in quashing that doubting voice and watching it swirl down the drain with the dregs of his toothpaste.

Perhaps he'd feel better if he just talked to Diane. She had a funny way of putting him at ease, it was one of the things that had initially drawn him to her.

Yes, that would do the trick. He'd go and see if she was awake and perhaps they could take a walk and discuss last night, going over the highlights and memories.

As Nick made his way back from the bathrooms, he passed by the entrance to the cafeteria. It was then that he heard a whistle.

"Psst, England!"

It was Beulah. By the looks of the small, but well-laden wicker basket she was waving at him, she hadn't forgotten their conversation last night.

"Here you go," she said as she handed it over. "There's sandwiches and some cod tongue, a little leftover casserole in the container there, oh and some fresh apples that's just come in this morning! I hope you and your lady friend have a good time."

"I hope so too," he replied, some of the worry clearly showing on his face despite himself.

"Oh, I'm sure you will. Have you seen the way she looks at you? Smitten, that one!"

Nick felt himself blush. He thanked Beulah for the picnic basket and made his way back to Diane.

She was still snoring, rather more deeply than she had been when he'd left and he marvelled at the way she still managed to look beautiful while she did it.

He must be in deep.

Leaning forward, he gently roused her, shaking her shoulder. He was just considering placing a kiss on her forehead to wake her (flashes of fairytale princesses coming whimsically into his mind) but then she jerked awake with a snort and he jumped back, narrowly avoiding being headbutted in the process.

"Good morning," he said warmly and was greeted by a groan.

"You were snoring," he continued fondly, gazing down at her as she clutched her forehead.

"Whew, my head hurts," she exclaimed, leaning forward on the edge of the cot, her head sinking further into her hands.

"You'd had a couple," he replied, determinedly shoving down the guilty notion that he was at least partly responsible for her condition this morning. "We both had."

He was about to offer her some coffee, or perhaps some of the sandwiches from the picnic basket when she blearily opened one eye and turned towards him, asking

"Did I kiss the fish?"

Nick froze.

"Don't you…." _No, she mustn't remember. Any of it. The entirety of last night – gone._

He felt all the air leave his lungs and along with it, that flicker of hope he'd been nurturing into a steady flame now sputtered and evaporated in a sad little puff of smoke.

He turned back to her with a sigh.

"Yes, yes you did."

"Oh, good," she smiled, then pointed to the picnic basket. "What's that?"

"Hmm? Oh, this… um, it's just… I was on my way to the kitchens and someone asked me to return it. Speaking of which, I'd best be off. Excuse me."

He knew she was confused and possibly hurt by his rapid departure, but Nick suddenly found he couldn't face Diane for a second longer. He had to get out of there.

Some small part of him had the wherewithal to remind him to drop the picnic basket off at the cafeteria, though he determinedly ignored Beulah's puzzled looks and confused shouts at his rapidly receding back.

Nick strode out of the front doors, his hands clenching repeatedly into fists, though his rapid breathing and the mounting panic was lessened now that he was outdoors and not surrounded by people.

He reached the school gate and paused, uncertain of which direction to take. He'd walked these streets a lot over the past few days, but always in the company of Diane, always following her lead.

Now that he was on his own, he wasn't sure where to go.

On his own.

Naturally.

Nick sighed and slumped down against the gate. He should have known better than to get his hopes up.

After all, it had been quite some time since he'd been in a relationship of this kind. Work had been so all-consuming that he didn't get out much to meet people and after a while, he'd sort of forgotten how. He'd become accustomed to the silence at home, to keeping his own company on holidays and weekends (not that he got many of those lately, what with the way his job was going).

Somewhere along the way, he'd latched onto that convenient excuse: married-to-the-job and used it to cover his fear of the real reason he was alone – that no one wanted him that way.

Here in Gander, he'd been given a glimpse of what life might be like if he didn't have to work such long, hard hours. He'd been given a glimpse of a life shared with someone else, of long walks filled with meandering conversations and comfortable silences. He'd seen the kind of person he could be with someone like Diane.

He'd liked that person he could be.

He thought Diane had liked that person too.

But it would seem he was mistaken.

Diane was warm and friendly to him, but she was probably that way with everyone. She'd been perfectly welcoming to the Kevins during their very first walk here in Gander.

She'd probably just sensed his nerves and awkwardness on the plane and taken pity on him, he thought. _And again on the bus_, a small voice provided helpfully.

"Oh God," Nick buried his head in his hands.

He'd been so certain last night that things were going somewhere between them. There had been a closeness that was so tangible he'd almost felt it like a caress. The way she'd touched him, danced close with him, kissed him even.

Then again, alcohol did funny things to people. _Look at you for a start, _he thought. _Kissing fish and dancing in pubs_.

No, he'd been a fool. Diane was simply being kind and he was an idiot for thinking it was anything more than that.

Nick slowly dragged himself to his feet and set off along the street in search of coffee. With any luck they might be flying out later that day and he could put all of this behind him.

Inside the cafeteria, Beulah was left clutching the handles of her wicker picnic basket and metaphorically scratching her head. That tall Englishman had seemed in such a rush to get out of here, he'd almost dropped the basket short of the edge of the table.

He hadn't seemed to hear her calls, asking if he was alright, if the cod tongue was really that bad (mostly a joke to ease the mood, although she did wonder – it was consistently the dish left most full at the end of the night) and he'd made a beeline for the exit.

She'd only had a glimpse of his face, but she knew heartbreak when she saw it – after all, she'd been young once – and it was written all over his pained expression.

As the door swung to a close, Beulah sighed. Her eyes fell on the picnic basket and she paused a moment, in thought.

Beulah squared her shoulders, picked up the basket and walked off in search of the Texan woman.

She had a job to do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Diane sat on the edge of her cot, feeling absolutely awful.

A large part of that was probably to do with the copious amounts of alcohol she'd apparently consumed last night. She'd never been a heavy drinker, not even a glass of wine with dinner, but last night in the bar, something had felt different. She'd felt different. She'd felt like someone who could be a little bit more daring, someone who could take chances.

With Nick by her side, it had felt like she could do anything.

After all, no one knew her here, she could be whoever she wanted to be. The possibilities were exciting, hopeful even, and they all seemed to centre around one thing – Nick.

The kind of woman she wanted to be here in Gander was the kind who was brave enough to dance with Nick, to take his hand and tell him how she felt. To tell him that she'd never met anyone like him before and that these few days in his kind, gentle company had been some of the happiest of her life.

Unfortunately, as much as she wanted to be that woman, she was still Diane, and there was still a part of her that was absolutely terrified at the thought of being so… _vulnerable_ with another person. And so, she drank.

And as a result, she had no memory of how she got home last night or what she'd said or done after the ceremony. Apparently she'd kissed the fish.

Maybe that explained the funny sensation in her lips – tender, a little swollen. Although maybe that was just the alcohol too.

That was part of the reason she felt so awful.

But no, the main reason for her cloud of misery was the terrifying thought that she _had_ gotten up the courage to say something to Nick.

What might she have said?

What if she'd confessed everything, propositioned him, asked if he wanted to take the mayor up on that offer to marry them? What if she'd told him she loved him?

That gave Diane pause. She hadn't even admitted that to herself yet, and it seemed like a big step. It seemed like the sort of thing you should have sorted in your own head before you went blabbering it to the person in question.

Then another thought struck her.

Oh god, what if she'd tried to kiss him?

Was that why he was so awkward just now? There was definitely something weird, something strained in their interaction that morning. It was as if Nick had been dancing around something, something big, something he felt too embarrassed (or too embarrassed on her behalf – bless him) to mention.

She'd made a complete mess of things, hadn't she?

Relationships had never been her strong suit. She hadn't really had any meaningful ones since David's father. _And that turned out to be such a bunch of roses_ she thought caustically to herself.

It had been foolish to think that Nick would be feeling the same as her, that this connection wasn't simply dreamed up as a coping mechanism, heightened by the drama of their situation.

_After all, you've only known him three days, don't be ridiculous Diane._

Dropping down to her pillow and curling into her side, Diane felt the beginnings of tears pricking at her eyes. In fact, if she wasn't so utterly dehydrated, she was sure she would have been in floods already.

It was at that moment that a picnic basket swam into view, being grasped by one of the local ladies she'd seen around the cafeteria.

Diane sat up, rapidly blinking away her tears in embarrassment.

"Oh, don't get up, you're alright," the woman began. "I don't know if we've met properly, I'm Beulah. I work here at the Academy."

"I'm Diane, it's nice to meet you," she replied automatically.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" Beulah asked, gesturing towards Nick's cot.

Diane waved her acquiescence with a tight smile.

"Now, I hope you don't think I'm prying, but I couldn't help noticing that your Englishman friend left in a bit of a hurry this morning and I wanted to check to see if you were ok?"

One glance from Beulah's kind eyes, flitting back and forth across Diane's worried face was all it took for the floodgates to burst open once more and she let out a choked sob.

"Oh, duckie, there there," Beulah said, coming over to sit next to Diane on her own cot, with an arm around her shoulders. "What's happened, then?"

"I've… I've made a mess of everything!" Diane wailed. "We all went…went out to the Legion last night and I had a…a bit too much to drink and I don't know what I said but I think I might've told Ni-Nick how I feel about him" she hiccupped.

Beulah continued to rub her arm comfortingly, so Diane swallowed and continued.

"I mean, I know we've only known each other a few days, but I thought we had a – a connection, you know? But it turns out I was wrong and this morning he was different and now things are awkward between us and I don't think he's speaking to me."

She dissolved into another wave of tears, as Beulah furrowed her brow.

"Now, that can't be right. I mean, I've seen the way you two've been lookin' at each other. I must admit, I'd've sworn you were married already when you got here! What _exactly _did he say this morning?"

Diane paused, forcing herself to rethink the now painful memory with clarity and detachment.

"I woke up and he told me I'd been snoring, so that's, you know, sexy," she began with a cringe. "Then he reminded me I'd been drinking – well, we both had been. And then…"

"Yes?" Beulah prompted.

"Well, I was trying to piece together what had happened, and I remembered there being a sort of ceremony,"

"The Screech-In" Beulah offered.

"Yeah, and I was supposed to kiss a fish, but that was where my memory got a little fuzzy, so I asked him if I'd gone through with it."

"Oh darlin, don't you remember?"

"No? Remember what?" Diane asked with trepidation. "What happened? Were you there?"

"No, I was here on washing up duty," Beulah replied. "But word travels fast around here. I heard you weren't so keen on kissing the fish, so the mayor gave you an alternative. He said he'd let you off if you kissed the Englishman instead. And apparently you did!"

Diane felt a lead weight settle into her stomach. So she had done it. She'd made an absolute fool of herself and had kissed Nick. And what's worse, done it in front of everyone. He must have hated that. No wonder he was so awkward this morning. She buried her face in her hands

"Oh god, no wonder he doesn't want to see me," she moaned through her fingers.

"What do you mean? Duckie, he was delighted! Followed you around for the rest of the night like a little lovesick puppy, or so I heard," she smirked.

Diane dropped her fingers an inch or so to peer over the top of them at Beulah in cautious disbelief.

"And if he hadn't enjoyed it, then how do you explain what he said last night?" Beulah asked coyly.

"What do you mean? What did he say last night?"

Beulah pursed her lips and Diane was surprised to see a gentle blush forming on her cheeks.

"Now, I hope you won't be mad at me, but as I said, last night I was in the cafeteria on dish-washing duty. Now, the cafeteria opens out through that window over there, but there's also a side entrance that opens onto the school foyer. Where those couches are, ya know?"

Diane got the feeling there was a link she was missing somewhere.

"And…?"

"Gosh, you really don't remember, do ya?" Beulah took a deep breath before continuing.

"Well, last night you two came in late and very merry, by the sounds of things. You both poured yourselves onto one of those couches and I couldn't help but overhear. You were planning a picnic together and then Nick started talking about his feelings for you and he… oh, sweetheart, he told you he's in love with you!

He sounded nervous as anything, poor dear, and when you didn't respond – oh I think you'd fallen asleep – he came into the kitchen to get some water for the two of you. Asked about getting some picnic supplies. I've never seen someone look so smitten!"

Diane sat very still, processing.

"So then, when I asked about the fish this morning…."

"He realised you didn't remember any of the night before and I think he panicked," Beulah filled in.

The older woman patted Diane on the knee, before standing up and leaving the picnic basket beside her.

"Why don't you take this and see if you can go and find him?" Beulah offered.

Diane stood up, suddenly determined.

She had a job to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

As Diane stood, clutching the picnic basket anxiously to her chest, she turned to scan the gymnasium for a sign of Nick.

Not that she expected to see him, she was pretty sure he'd taken off outside somewhere, but it couldn't hurt to look.

It was a good thing she did, because at that moment a voice rang out across the room "American Airlines Flight 57 to Dallas, you guys are up! Pack your things and get on the bus. That's Flight 57 with American Airlines to Dallas, Texas, boarding now!"

_Crap_. _Not now!_

Diane tried to hurry out the door, but someone rather official with a clipboard and a microphone ushered her back inside, telling her she had time to collect her things but nothing else.

Diane felt the panic well up inside her once more. How was she supposed to find Nick if she wasn't allowed to leave the building? How could she apologise for last night and explain herself? Tell him how she felt?

Biting down on the tears that were threatening once again to spill over, Diane returned to her cot and hurriedly packed her belongings. As they'd only been allowed to take their carry-on in the first place, this – mercifully – didn't take long.

Diane was halfway out to the bus before she realised the picnic basket was still tightly clutched in one hand.

It seemed such a futile gesture now. She'd met someone, fallen in love with them and chased them away, all in the space of a few days and now she was about to board a plane and fly home – somewhere thousands of miles from him – and most likely never see him again.

The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over as she made her way blindly towards the back of the bus, collapsing into an empty seat and letting her belongings spill out onto the seat next to her.

As the bus filled up around her, the other passengers were kind enough (or cautious enough) to give her a wide berth and allow her to quietly cry to herself. Most of them had excited grins on their faces and seemed thrilled to be finally heading towards their original destinations, whether home or on holidays.

For Diane, it no longer felt like going home.

Her thoughts were interrupted momentarily by the sound of the bus driver calling her name – apparently they were undertaking some kind of roll call, presumably to make sure they got all the right passengers on the right plane so they could go home.

It was funny, she thought, the way your idea of home changed throughout your life. She'd lived in the same house at the end of her street for almost her entire childhood, only moving out to attend college. Even then, her dormitory hadn't been imbued with a sense of permanency and she'd always known she'd be returning to her "real" home at the end of her studies.

Then adulthood, a series of apartments and houses, marriage, divorce and finally she'd come to settle in her current house, where David had spent his teenage years. She'd been content there.

Until now.

Now the thought of returning to Dallas left her cold. The house was quite large for one person on their own and whilst it had never bothered her before, it suddenly seemed lonely.

It wasn't hard to figure out the missing piece, the thing that would make her house feel like a home again. That thing was Nick.

"Nick Marson," called the bus driver, once again interrupting her thoughts. "Has anyone seen Nick Marson?"

"I'm here!" panted a light English voice as he bounded up the stairs, breathlessly dropping into one of the few vacant seats near the front.

Diane felt her pulse triple in speed.

He hadn't seen her.

Clutching her things, she made her way carefully to the front of the bus, pausing beside him.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" she asked with a cautious smile. "There aren't any drunk people singing back there, but I did promise you a picnic, didn't I?"

Nick froze, his gaze flitting from her face to the picnic basket in her hand and back, brow furrowed in confusion.

"You… you remembered?" he asked, before coming to his senses and making room on the seat beside him, dropping his luggage to the floor and gesturing for her to join him.

"Well, not exactly. One of the local women – Beulah, I don't know if you know her?"

Nick smiled in response, though Diane noted the endearing return of a pink flush to the tips of his ears.

"Well, she sort of helped me fill in the blanks," she went on. "She told me she'd been helping out in the kitchens and overheard our conversation last night after the Legion. She told me all about what we said and explained what you were doing with this picnic basket before you ran off."

"Ah, yes, about that… I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming with you, I just … when you asked about the fish and I realised you didn't remember, I thought that maybe…" he paused, uncertain.

"You weren't sure if I meant what I said the night before?" she prompted.

He nodded.

Diane considered him thoughtfully before reaching out and sliding her hand into his.

"I'm afraid I really don't remember what I said last night, but if it was something along the lines of 'I've had a great time' and 'I've never met anyone like you' and 'I'm crazy about you' then I meant every word" she smiled at him, the need to calm his anxieties distracting her from her own.

She felt Nick's hand grip more firmly into her own and she gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"Well, if you really don't remember our conversation, I suppose I'd better repeat my part of it too," he said, before pausing.

Diane waited.

He seemed to be steeling himself, gathering the courage to say whatever it was he needed to say. He took a deep breath. And another.

And another.

Diane nudged him. "Well?" she prompted gently. "What was it you…"

"I love you," he cut across her words, a flash of panic flitting behind his eyes, before he squared his jaw and turned to face her almost defiantly.

Diane thought about soothing his worried expression, about reassuring him that it was perfectly alright to say those words, to mean them. She thought about telling him she felt the same way and had been driving herself crazy trying to find a way to tell him.

She thought about saying all these things.

And then she thought better of it and simply kissed him instead.

Diane poured all of her longing, her attraction and her love for Nick into the kiss and felt all of her worries melt away when he tremulously raised a hand to her cheek and tilted their heads to kiss her back.

Their arms wound around each other's neck, each other's shoulders, each other's waist – any way that they could draw each other closer, they did.

When delighted cheers and a round of applause burst forth from the surrounding passengers, they pulled away, bashfully. Neither was quite willing to let go of the other's hand, though.

"Shall we see what's in this picnic, then?" Diane asked, retrieving the wicker basket from where it lay at her feet.

Nick chuckled. "Go on, then. I'm still hoping for toutons, but I don't like my chances."

Diane rolled her eyes affectionately at him before lifting up the lid.

The basket was full to bursting with sandwiches, cake slices, some cod tongue and leftover casserole along with fresh apples and there, wrapped up at the very back, was a small container of toutons.

Nick's eyes lit up with delight, before he turned to her with mounting suspicion.

"Just how much of our conversation did Beulah say she listened to last night?" he asked.

Diane giggled. "I'd say quite a bit of it! Either that, or we've got ourselves a guardian angel watching out for us."

With a shrug, they both tucked in to the food provided, somehow still managing to hold hands all the way to the airport.

Some time later, Beulah received a parcel in the post. Puzzled, she tore off the tape and lifted the flaps of the large box, opening it to find her picnic basket and a note:

_Dear Beulah, _

_Many apologies this basket took so long to get back to you. Rest assured it has been on many outings around Dallas, including the night when Nick proposed! _

_Something tells me that you were partly responsible for making that happen by bringing us together and for that, you have my eternal thanks. _

_Much love, _

_Diane Marson. _

_P.S. Nick has asked if I could request your recipe for toutons by return post. _


End file.
